The One About The Girl With The Eyes
by ebb in and away
Summary: A young girl grows up next door to Paul, and is one of his best friends. He's been climbing through her bedroom window for ages, but what happens when he starts dragging John and George along on his late night visits to her. Not ATU.
1. Chapter 1

The One About The Girl With The Eyes

Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles, or anything else you may recognize. This fictional story is merely a way for me to get some writing practice and to have a bit of fun. I am not making any money from this story.

Ch. 1

As I watched Paul climb through my bedroom window, then land on the floor with a thump, I couldn't help wondering how on Earth we had ever become friends. We've been friends for as long as I can remember, and he's been climbing into my room late at night for most of that time. Nothing like _that_ has happened; both of us are grossed out by the very idea of kissing each other on the mouth, or doing any romantic crap together really. We've been friends for far too long to see each other in that way, especially since neither of us has wanted to try anything like that with the other.

Paul springs up from his place on the floor, nearly tackling me in his enthusiasm. I'm immediately on my guard, wondering what he's up to this time.

"Paul…what's going on?"

He grins at me.

"I got into a band."

"That's fantastic!"

I have to whisper-shout so I don't wake my father.

"That's actually why I'm here. I brought the lead singer to meet you."

"Paul! I'm hardly decent for receiving visitors!"

I tug on one sleeve of my nightgown to emphasize my point.

"You let me see you like this all the time."

I roll my eyes.

"That's a different matter altogether. We've known each other practically since birth. You seeing me like this does not mean that I should meet somebody, for the first time, mind you, in my nightgown!"

Paul rolls his eyes at me.

"Hurry and get dressed then! Seriously, I want you to meet him."

I decide to skip making him use his puppy dog eyes. I sigh, giving in.

"Turn around."

His face lights up, and he hurriedly faces the other way. I dress swiftly.

"Alright."

Paul goes to my window and signals to his friend. Soon enough, there's a second guy climbing through my bedroom window, but this one manages to avoid falling down. He stares at me, clearly curious as to what makes me so important, but quickly hides his curiosity behind a mask of indifference. I roll my eyes, not really caring that it probably wouldn't be considered a polite behavior befitting a young woman such as myself.

"Paul?"

"What?"

I barely manage to repress my laughter.

"You may have wanted us to meet, but I do believe that you may have forgotten something…"

Realization dawned on his face as I trailed off.

"Of course! Sorry. John, this is Opal. Opal, John."

I nod to John, but he doesn't acknowledge me.

"Paul, why're we here?"

Paul sighed.

"I wanted my two friends to meet."

"Yeah, now we've met, let's go."

He climbs out of my window without a second glance at me. Paul turns to me, and I clamp my hand over his mouth.

"Don't even think about apologizing. I'll see you another night."

I release his mouth and step forward into a hug, smiling as I feel his arms wrap around me the same way they always have.

"Night, Opal."

I release him and step back.

"Goodnight, Paul."

He leaves, and I return to my previous attire and position: in my nightgown, and curled up on my side in my bed, facing the window. I drift off to sleep, wondering if I should worry about whether I'll get enough sleep each night from now on.

* * *

I'm lying in bed, wishing that I could just fall asleep and forget that today happened. I'm hoping that Paul and John don't visit, as I really don't think that I could handle anyone talking to me right now. My father barely got an explanation out of me before I ran up to my room, and he wound up having to bring my dinner up to me, even though I haven't touched it.

Of course. Today hasn't ended yet, so why on Earth would things get better?

I finally managed to fall asleep, only to be woken by voices under my window. I sit up, grab the fork from my dinner, and throw it towards the window after seeing a hand on the ledge. The hand is quickly removed.

"Opal, come on, it's Paul!"

"Prove it!"

"Fine, I'm coming up, don't throw anything at me. No shoving me out the window, either."

I grab the knife that's lying beside my uneaten dinner, just in case. Two hands appear on the ledge, followed by the face of my best friend.

"Sorry, Paul, but I'm not in the mood to talk."

"Not even to me?"

"Not even to you."

He climbs in anyways. He pulls the fork out of the window ledge, studies it, then holds it out in front of him like a sword. Paul approaches with a grin on his face, but the grin fades to a look of concern when he sees the tear tracks on my cheeks.

"Opal…what's happened?"

My face crumples as I begin to cry, and he's beside me in mere seconds, pulling me into a hug.

"Hey, I'm right here, it's okay…"

These words don't stop my tears, and Paul hurries over to the window.

"John, get up here."

John gracefully springs into my room, looking worried by the sight of me sobbing.

"What happened?"

Paul shrugs, and my bed sinks on either side of me as they sit down. I try to stop crying.

"The…he…they…It cheated on me!"

Both boys stiffen beside me, and murderous looks spread across their faces.

"Don't even think about it!"

"But, Opal…"

My voice is sharp.

"No."

John and Paul each wrap an arm around me, settling for comforting me instead of pummeling my ex-boyfriend, though it's clear that they still want to do the latter. We sit in silence, then John remembers something.

"Hey, we brought someone we want you to meet."

I dive under my covers, pulling them up to my chin. My friends laugh, and John goes over to the window.

"George! It's alright, get up here!"

There's silence as a boy who looks to be my age climbs through the window. I'm impressed that he manages it without making any noise, John and Paul always make a little bit of noise. He draws nearer to my bed, and I realize that I recognize him. Paul looks rather eager for us to meet, possibly because he wants to distract me from thoughts of my ex.

"Opal, this is George. George, Opal is the girl that I was telling you about."

George Harrison's dark eyes study my face for a moment, and I learn that it is possible to feel exposed even when wearing pajamas and hiding under your covers.

"Opal, you look familiar. Have we met before?"

I shake my head, both in reply, and in an attempt to shake off the feeling of being so exposed.

"No. We do ride the same bus, though."

He nods, apparently satisfied by that explanation, then turns to Paul.

"She's that girl?"

I frown, wondering whether I should be offended, while Paul nods enthusiastically.

"Yeah, Opal is the girl who can tell amazing bedtime stories."

I roll my eyes, trying to resist the urge to slap him.

_Paul became convinced that my bedtime stories had amazing powers during the weeks after his mother's death, when he would spend the day in my room, then go home, only to show up again after his father had gone to bed. My stories had eased him to sleep, and he believes that they could cure anyone of insomnia._

Paul turned to me.

"Please? George hasn't been able to sleep well lately, and it's taking its toll on his playing."

"I've had a lot of trouble lately too," I mutter. George steps closer to the bed, where John, Paul, and I are lying down.

"You don't need to help me; I just wanted to meet the girl that Paul and John kept talking about."

I sigh, extracting one of my arms from under the covers to pat the empty space beside me.

"Lie down, I'll try to help."

He does so hesitantly, clearly not sure about this idea. Paul curls up at my feet while John lies down to my right. Paul sits up so he can see my face.

"Opal, can you please tell the one about the girl with the eyes?"

I smile, used to hearing this request from Paul.

"Sure."

I take a deep breath, exhale, and begin.

"Her eyes when she was happy were warm and soft and brown. When she was angry, her eyes grew cold, and they would strike fear into those who saw them."

Before I could continue, there was a loud voice calling to me from outside. I sprang out of bed.

"Quick, get into the wardrobe and don't make a sound."

My voice was barely audible over the shouting, but the boys got the message and piled into my wardrobe. I shut the doors behind them, just before my dad burst into the room.

"What on Earth is going on?"

The voice outside continues yelling.

"My ex was cheating on me, so I dumped him. He seems to think I'm his property, but I'm NOT!"

My dad leans out the window.

"You! Get out of here before I phone the police!"

"She has to take me back! That little bitch won't find anyone else who will put up with her!"

I quickly lean against the doors of the wardrobe so the boys can't get out, and my father runs off to phone the police. As soon as my door shuts behind him, I let the boys out of the wardrobe, hissing for them to stay out of sight and be quiet. My ex is still carrying on outside.

"Fucking pathetic, that's what she is! She couldn't get a guy if she tried!"

I finally crack. I storm over to the window, easily dodging Paul's outstretched arms that are trying to stop me. I stick my head outside.

"You forgot something, scum!"

I see him look up in confusion, and I realize that he's drunk; even though I can't see his face from here.

"What're you talking about?!"

I feel my lips turn up slightly into a smirk.

"You're the only bloke who's ever dated me! What's that say about you?!"

I slam the window shut before he can reply, and I hold onto the ledge, trying to get my breathing under control. I hear John start to approach, then Paul warning him against it. I finally turn around as the police arrive.

"They're here."

The boys watch with me as the police drag my ex away.

My dad goes back to bed, and the boys all pile up around me on my bed, falling asleep when I re-start the story. I slip away from wakefulness, only rising just before dawn so the boys can get back to Paul's house without being caught.

* * *

I was young when my mother left, but I was old enough to know what she thought of my father. Words like 'pathetic', 'insignificant', and 'arse' were in my vocabulary at the age of five, and Paul was the only person who could calm me after they argued. He learned early on not to swear in front of me, if only because I would cry whenever he did. John only said 'arse' one time in front of me, and he wound up apologizing for several nights afterwards.

* * *

The second night after I broke up with my ex, Paul visited me by himself. He wrapped his arms around me, then pulled me until I was lying down with his shoulder as a pillow. I immediately grabbed onto his shirt, bunching part of it up in my fist as I tried to hold back my tears. Paul's left hand moves across and down my back, loosening tense muscles until I finally crack, letting the tears flow.

Paul has dealt with this twice before: first, after my mother left and I attempted to shove Paul back out the window after he had first come in; the second, after John had said 'arse' in front of me, coincidentally on the anniversary of the day my mother had left.

Paul kept moving his hand around on my back, pressing harder each time my crying slowed. He understands how much I hate crying, so he helps me to get it out of my system in bursts. He presses my back gently, barely touching it at first, then presses slightly harder, loosening my tensest muscles. I cry for what feels like hours, eventually running out of tears.

"Thanks, Paul."

His hand quits rubbing my back, and I'm pulled closer to him.

"Of course."

We're silent for a long while, and I would have thought he was sleeping if he hadn't been playing with my hair.

"Paul?"

"Hmm?"

"What did I do wrong?"

He stops playing with my hair.

"What do you mean?"

"He…cheated on me. I want to know why."

I feel Paul's chest rise, then fall, very slowly.

"He's a bloody fool, that's why."

"But if I had done something different, did everything he asked…"

My sentence is cut off by the shock of Paul sitting up suddenly.

"Lass, listen to me."

He gently tilts my face up to look into my eyes.

"You did nothing wrong. He was a bloody idiot for pressuring you. You're brilliant. More stubborn than John at times, but you've got a heart of gold. For cryin' out loud, you've got George begging me to let him come over so he can see you again, and John wants to visit too!"

"Really?"

He chuckles.

"Opal, they love talking to you. I'm not sure I've ever seen John so willing to sit and listen to someone our age. When he upset you, he wound up mad at himself for days. Like I said, you've got a heart of pure gold, and those who are let in either appreciate it, or use it against you. Your ex was stupid enough to do the latter. Don't let him stop you finding someone smart."

Paul lets go of my chin, and I lean my head on his chest again. We sit in silence until just before dawn. As Paul carefully climbs out the window, he says something.

"I'll be back tonight. Is it alright if George comes?"

I smile.

"I like that idea."

Paul pulls himself up just enough to kiss my cheek, then drops out of sight. I walk back to bed, falling asleep before I can completely lie down.

* * *

That night, as planned, Paul is climbing through my window with George following. I'm in my nightgown, which practically looks like a circus tent on me, and Paul practically crushes me in a hug. As he lets go of me and steps back, I look past him to see George blushing. Paul notices, and I quickly clamp a hand over his mouth before he can say a word.

"George?"

I try to catch his gaze, but his eyes are firmly pointed towards the floor.

"George, would you feel better if I put some proper clothes on?"

He nods, turning even redder. I release Paul and grab some clothes.

"Turn around you lot."

George looks like he's about to dive out of the window, but Paul simply turns around where he is. I dress quickly, then tap Paul's shoulder.

"George."

No response.

"George?"

Paul looks confused as to why he isn't getting a response. I sigh, going over to the window to get George.

"George?"

He jumps, nearly hitting his head on the window.

"Hey, take it easy, I'm dressed properly now, I swear."

He turns, and I see that he looks a bit pale. He still won't meet my eyes. He is, however, willing to look at my face instead of the floor, which I decide to count as progress for the time being.

"See? I'm dressed, you don't have anything to worry about."

"It isn't proper," he mutters, causing me to laugh.

"Lad, the fact that either of you are in my room, at night, isn't proper to begin with. The fact remains that all we're going to do is talk, sleep, and maybe play a game or sing."

He nods, and follows Paul and me to my bed, where we all take a seat. Paul turns to look at me.

"Lass, how're ya feeling?"

I shake my head.

"That bad?"

Warm arms pull me onto Paul's lap, and I reach out blindly as tears fill my eyes, and I manage to grab George's hand. Paul whispers in my ear, "It's alright. Opal, he isn't worth your tears."

"Who on Earth was she dating?"

"Conrad."

"That bloke in my grade?!"

I feel a hand with calloused fingertips grab my hand that isn't cutting off circulation in one of George's hands.

"Opal, please look at me."

I look up into George's eyes, feeling rather surprised to find him gazing back at me.

"He isn't worth your tears, honest. He thinks highly of himself, but he's just an idiot, come on now."

Funnily enough, George's voice is somewhat more effective than Paul's at getting me to stop crying.

"He's a bloody fool, and you deserve better."

He pauses for a moment, looking nervous.

"Besides, with three lads climbing through your bedroom window at night, I'm sure you can find someone better than Conrad. Someone nicer, and better looking too."

He winks at me as he delivers the last line, and I burst into giggles. A grin flashes across his face, then he looks at Paul and cracks up. I twist until I can see Paul's face, and nearly fall off of his lap due to how hard I'm laughing. Poor Paul looks so lost. I hug him once I calm down a bit, and he loses his confused look. I tackle George when I hug him, forcing him to lie down with me on top of him. Paul lies down too, so I crawl on top of him, reaching out to grab George. We fall asleep quickly, and my broken heart begins to heal.

* * *

*Tap* *Tap Tap* "Go away."

My voice is scratchy due to my cold, and I doubt that Paul can hear me. I attempt to sit up, but quickly realize how futile it is. I hear my window open, and I grab the note from my nightstand.

"I have a cold. Stay back!"

Paul chuckles as he reads the letter out loud.

"Opal, I've been here the past three nights, I'm not going to get sick if I haven't already."

I manage to weakly mutter, "So you think," then see John and George standing by the window. I point towards them, then towards the window. John just grins, then flops down on my bed. Paul lies down too. George, however, picks up my medicine from my nightstand.

"Is it time to take this?"

I glance at my clock, then nod. George sets the bottle down, then wraps his arms around me.

"One…two…three."

He pulls me to sit up, then grabs my medicine and pours out the required amount into a tablespoon (I'd been using a spoon that was too large so I could avoid spilling the medicine). I open my mouth wide, feeling a bit like a baby bird as George gave me the medicine. He set the spoon down, then prepared to help me lie down again.

"One…two…three."

I gladly sink down into my pillow, feeling exhausted. George lies down beside me, and I pull him towards me as much as I can.

_Since the first night when just Paul and George had come to visit, George had become a…teddy bear of sorts. No matter how we went to sleep, my arms always wound up wrapped firmly around him. Thankfully, Paul had been understanding about it, though he did like to joke that we were practicing to be a married couple. John, however, had not heard the jokes or seen it happen yet. _

George, seeing that I'm too weak to pull him as close as I'd like, scoots closer. I try to hoist myself up enough to lay on top of him, knowing that he typically gave off enough body heat that he could help me warm up now, but I can't quite manage to pull myself up. He brushes a strand of hair out of my face and looks into my eyes.

"On top?"

I nod, mouthing the word 'please'. He smiles, carefully shifting me and himself until I was laying on him, my head resting on his chest. I fall asleep, only to wake up sneezing an hour later. I try to stifle the sound, turning away from the boys and covering my mouth, but it's no use.

"Ya allergic to us now or what?"

I hear a grunt, and realize that Paul must have elbowed John in the stomach. George carefully shifts us until we're upright, patting my back gently. My sneezing fit finally stops, and I put my hand up to my throat.

"Sore?"

I nod, clearing my throat to speak, and wincing. George puts a finger to my lips.

"Don't try talking, you'll only make things worse."

He carefully leans back; and I cuddle into him, managing to wrap my arms around his torso and my legs halfway around his waist.

I wake to the sounds of the boys arguing, and realize that I'm wrapped around George in a way that's far from proper. I attempt to lift my head, but realize that George is stroking my hair as he argues with John.

"Mate, you have to quit coming here, that's all there is to it."

I feel guitar-calloused fingers rub the back of my neck, but they're quickly removed. I whine softly at the loss; those fingers had been helping me feel better. The arguing stopped at the sound of my whine, and I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turn my head to face Paul and John (whose hand is on my shoulder), and I try to speak.

"George should keep coming here."

My voice is weak and scratchy, but slightly louder than before. John looks concerned by my idea.

"Look at how you are laying, lass. It's not exactly a good idea to lay that way with a teenage boy if you aren't trying to get a reaction from him."

I can feel my face turning red at John's statement. Paul looks over at John.

"She's slept like that on me before; do I have to quit visiting her too?"

The boys clearly weren't expecting my reaction to that. I tried to get closer to Paul immediately, but my strength gave out halfway there. I nearly knocked John off the bed, did knock the wind out of Paul's lungs, and still had my legs around George's waist. George looked over at John with a sarcastic smile.

"Looks like we're trapped now. What ever will we do?"

I hear and feel Paul laughing under me.

"John, I trust you guys. I would lock my window if I didn't. I've been around Paul for years, and George just makes a really good teddy bear."

Silence. I feel guitar-calloused on the back of my neck again, and I relax.

"Paul?"

"John?"

"Why is George her teddy bear?"

"He's capable of holding still when he sleeps."

"That, and he emits enough warmth to leave no need for a blanket, unless I'm sick."

I feel two pairs of hands grab me, shifting me so I'm lying on George again. His arms wrap around me, and I let out a giggle.

"I'm also the only teddy bear she's met that cuddles back."

George's tone is smug, but I decide that he's allowed to be, seeing as he really is the only teddy bear I've met that cuddles back.


	2. Chapter 2

The One About The Girl With The Eyes

Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles, or anything else you may recognize. This fictional story is merely a way for me to get some writing practice and to have a bit of fun. I am not making any money from this story.

Warning: There's going to be some swearing and underage drinking, I'm letting you know now.

I fidget uncomfortably, trying to stop myself from running home to change right after school.

My girl best friend, Sarah, decided that I needed a makeover. Apparently, makeovers 'mend broken hearts' and 'attract the perfect man'. She also told me that hanging around with Paul so often has made people think of me as 'one of the boys', which is, according to Sarah, bad.

People have been commenting on my new clothes all day, and I've lost patience with the entire thing. I wait for Paul at the doors to his school; and he walks right past me, then stops and turns.

"Opal?"

"Please don't gawk at me, I already feel ridiculous."

Paul takes in the expression on my face, and bursts into laughter.

"Here, lass, put this on."

He pulls his jacket off and hands it to me. I'm putting my arm into the sleeve as John and George appear, and I have to avoid meeting George's gaze because of how exposed I feel already. John smirks.

"Well, what do we have here? Paul's got himself a bird?"

I pull the jacket completely on, trying to ignore the wolf whistles I'm drawing from the boys' classmates.

"Can we please go now?"

Paul shakes his head.

"Sorry, lass, but we've got someone for you to meet. He's a good friend of John's."

I sigh, pulling the sleeves of the jacket up so I can button it more easily. John is studying the crowd, then calls to someone.

"Stu! Stuart, over here!"

A guy wearing sunglasses on wanders over to us.

"Hey, guys."

His eyes land on me.

"Hello, Miss…"

"Opal, just Opal. You must be the guy I'm supposed to be meeting."

John is acting like he doesn't care, but the way his eyes are darting between Stuart and me suggests otherwise.

"Stu, this is Opal. Opal, Stu's in the band."

I nod, send a small smile to Stu, then scoot closer to Paul.

"Paul, since when do you have a girl?"

Paul lays an arm across my shoulders as a few guys walk by, staring at me. As soon as they're gone, Paul shakes his head.

"She's not anybody's girl, just an old friend."

We start walking towards Paul's house, and I listen as the boys talk about music. I nudge Paul when we reach my house, and he whispers that I should come over after I change. I hurry up to my room, grab a longer skirt and change into it, feeling much better once more of me is covered. I find a blouse that has short sleeves and is proper for polite company, change, pull Paul's coat on; and run downstairs and out the door. Paul's brother, Mike, greets me at their door; and he leads me into the sitting room where the boys are talking. Paul smiles at me, holding out his hand, so I go over to sit beside him. I hand back his jacket with a quiet 'thank you', and earn a grin in reply.

"Anyone want a beer?"

Paul springs to his feet as he asks, ready to fetch drinks for all of us. The others all accept, but I shake my head. Paul goes into the kitchen; leaving me alone with the other three. I remain silent as the boys continue to joke. Paul comes in and sets four beers on the table, then goes back into the kitchen. He returns with a glass of water for me.

"Thank you."

Paul winks at me, and Stuart clears his throat.

"Are you sure she isn't your girl?"

Paul rolls his eyes.

"She's not my girl. After the last guy she dated, she probably won't date anybody ever again."

I take a mouthful of water, holding it in my mouth as an excuse not to talk just yet. Paul was glaring at Stuart, clearly irritated that he'd had to bring the subject up.

"What happened with her last boyfriend?"

I swallow my mouthful of water.

"He decided that if I wouldn't sleep with him, he would get a second girlfriend and sleep with her. I caught him, broke up with him, and haven't bothered dating anybody since."

Paul wraps an arm around me.

"That reminds me, what was going on with that new outfit of yours?"

I roll my eyes.

"Susan decided that I needed to dress like that so I could get a boyfriend. Of course, she also told me that I shouldn't hang out with you as much as I do, so I don't quite trust her judgment."

I squirm, looking across the table at George, who is studying me again. He sees me looking at him and mouths 'sorry'. John, apparently, finds the memory of my outfit amusing.

"This friend of yours should choose your clothes all of the time, especially tonight."

"John, I haven't told her about that yet."

"Told me about what?"

Paul turns to me with puppy eyes.

"Opal, please come watch us perform tonight at the Cavern? Please?"

"Can I walk with you guys?"

Paul looks over at John.

"As long as she dresses like earlier. It could help our image a bit."

He's smirking again. Paul looks at me, letting me decide.

"Don't let anybody take off with me?"

Paul hugs me.

"I'll keep an eye on you."

* * *

We reach the club half an hour before the boys are supposed to perform, and I am frequently tugging at my clothing, trying to make it less revealing. The boys pull me over to the bar, and I give Paul a questioning look.

"You haven't met Pete yet. He's our drummer."

I tug on my skirt again, then follow Paul over to where the drummer is sitting.

"Pete, this is Opal. She's an old friend of mine."

Pete shakes my hand, and I see several girls glare at me. The boys each have a beer or glass of water (depending on their age), and I wait patiently for them to finish. I look around, trying to find a good spot to watch them perform from. I notice a spot close to the stage, so I nudge Paul.

"I'm going to go sit by the stage."

He nods, and I wander over to the table I'd spotted. I sit down and stare at the stage, glancing at my watch occasionally. The boys finally get on the stage; and at the first few words from them, the crowd starts dancing. I don't leave my seat; but I do move my head to the music, grinning as I recognize some of the songs from that afternoon's rehearsal. I watch how each boy acts on stage, giggling when Paul winks at no particular person. George eventually steps up to a microphone, and starts to sing, easily coaxing the correct notes from his guitar as he plays. I close my eyes for a moment, just letting the music wash over me; and I relax, truly relax, for the first time today as George's voice envelopes me. I open my eyes as he starts to play a guitar solo, and I can't help staring. His fingers move over the strings confidently, and I begin to see a beauty to the movements that I've never noticed before. The solo ends, and as George begins to sing again, I look up at his face; only to meet his eyes. He continues to sing and play, bringing the song to a close without making any mistakes, but his eyes never leave mine. This time, even though I feel like he can see everything I've ever thought, said, and done, I don't look away. George holds my gaze through the next song, the last song the boys will be playing tonight, then looks away. I look down at my table, trying to steady my breathing. Paul, John, Stu, and Pete wander off to flirt for a bit, but George flops into the chair beside mine. He has a glass of water in hand, and he takes a sip before setting it on the table.

"Why do you never drink?"

"I tried it, once. Didn't particularly care for it."

George nods, accepting my explanation.

"What did ya think of us?"

I smile at him.

"You guys are fantastic, and the song you sang lead on was incredible!"

He blushes and grins, clearly delighted by my reaction. We chat for an hour before the other guys make their way over to our table.

"Hey, what'd ya think of our performance?"

John looked rather hopeful, though he was trying to hide it. Paul, however, grabbed a chair and sat next to me.

"Thoughts?"

I roll my eyes as Paul pouts.

"It was wonderful, lads, honestly."

The group breaks into grins, and Pete holds out his hand to me.

"It was nice to meet you, Opal."

"You too, Pete."

We shake hands, and with a nod to the boys, he drifts off into the crowd. Stu and John leave soon after, and Paul pulls me to my feet.

"Come on, lass. I'd better get you home."

George stands.

"Mind if I walk with ya?"

* * *

"Uh, oh."

Paul and George look over at me.

"I don't have my key."

"Should we wake your dad?"

"He's away on business."

Paul wraps an arm around me.

"We'll work this out somehow."

"What if we take the vines up to her room like we normally do?"

Paul shakes his head as I turn pale.

"She's too scared that she'll fall. One of us would have to carry her."

George sets his hands on my shoulders.

"I can carry you. We'll have Paul go up first, then I'll go up with you."

Paul starts climbing up the vines, and we see him go through the window to my room. George holds his arms out to me.

"Come here."

I wrap my arms around his neck, then jump up and wrap my legs around his waist. He starts climbing, and I close my eyes. Soon, I feel Paul's hands grabbing my sides, so I open my eyes. As I'm carefully set down on the floor of my bedroom, I calm down, glad to be back on solid ground. George and Paul sit down next to me, and we all take a moment to relax.

"Guys?"

"Yeah?"

I frown.

"Why didn't we just send one of you up to go in and open the front door for the other two?"

Silence. Then, George, Paul, and I laugh until our sides hurt.


	3. Chapter 3

The One About The Girl With The Eyes

Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles, or anything else you may recognize. This fictional story is merely a way for me to get some writing practice and to have a bit of fun. I am not making any money from this story.

Warning: There's going to be some swearing and underage drinking, I'm letting you know now.

As annoying as Susan can be sometimes, I typically go to her for relationship-related problems. Probably not the best of ideas, but I've never seen the appeal in trying to talk to Paul about guys that I like. It seems like it might get a tad bit awkward if I did.

Susan opens the door for me early on Saturday morning, allowing me to enter when she sees the look on my face. I follow her up to her room, where she locks her door before turning to grin at me.

"Well, who is it this time?"

I feel my face growing warm.

"Someone in Paul's band…" I mutter, not wanting to specify which guy it is just yet. Susan's eyes grow wide.

"Opal, I know that they're cute, but they're dangerous. All that you'll get from dating one of them is a broken heart. Besides, why would you risk your friendship with Paul…?"

I look up quickly.

"What?"

She rolls her eyes.

"Dating Paul could put your friendship with him at risk…Why are you laughing?"

I had started giggling when she mentioned dating Paul, leaving her looking very confused.

"I don't have a crush on Paul!"

"But you said…"

"I said that they were in his band, not that it was him."

"Who is it then?"

I swallow.

"George."

My voice sounds rather breathless, and Susan seems inexplicably happy about this.

"The shy one?"

I shake my head.

"He isn't always shy, he just doesn't happen to be much of a chatterbox."

Susan dismissed this statement with a wave of her hand.

"Whatever. Now, tell me how this crush of yours started?"

Crud. I'd forgotten the potential danger of questions like these. I can't very well tell her that three guys routinely climb in through my bedroom window in the middle of the night.

"Paul…Well, Paul introduced me to a few of the band members about three months ago. He introduced me to the rest of them last night, and invited me to watch them perform."

I pause, and realize that Susan has an expression reminiscent of a child listening to a story.

"I watched them perform, and I locked eyes with George while they were performing."

I frown.

"For some weird reason, whenever he looks at me I feel…exposed. Like he knows everything about me, like he can read my mind. It's unnerving, but I almost like the feeling when he is the one causing it."

Susan squeals.

"You really like him! A lot! You should tell him."

"What?! I barely know him! Besides, he would never want to date someone like me."

Susan leans over and hugs me.

"How often has he given you that piercing look?"

I think about it for a minute.

"I don't know…at least once every time that I've seen him?"

"Good. He likes you too."

My mouth falls open.

"What? But…how…huh?"

She reaches over and presses my chin up so I will close my mouth.

"He has to be staring at you for some reason!"

"He probably just doesn't realize how piercing his gaze can be."

"Watch. One of these days, he'll break that quiet streak for a bit and ask you out. Just watch."


	4. Chapter 4

The One About The Girl With The Eyes

Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles, or anything else you may recognize. This fictional story is merely a way for me to get some writing practice and to have a bit of fun. I am not making any money from this story.

Warning: There's going to be some swearing and underage drinking, I'm letting you know now.

George, Paul, John, Stu, and Pete flopped down on the floor of Paul's bedroom, having finished practicing for the day. Each had a beer in hand; but while the other boys were drinking theirs and chatting, George was silently staring at his.

"orge?...George!"

"Wha!?"

The group started laughing as George nearly spilled his beer. Paul rolled his eyes.

"You drifted off for a bit there, mate. Anything the matter?"

George's face turned a faint shade of pink. John noticed.

"Ah, our young lad is havin' bird troubles! Come on, son, tell us what the problem is."

George noticed Paul looking at him rather curiously.

"I…I'd rather not."

"Why not?"

"I'm trying not to get into a fight that could cause problems for the band."

Paul, Stu, and Pete looked worried, but John was staring at George with a calculating look on his face. George shut his eyes, hoping that John wouldn't figure it out.

No such luck. John burst into laughter, and George knew that it was all over now. He'd get kicked out of the band, lose his friendships with the other guys, never see the girl he liked again, and he'd get beat up too. The other boys were staring at John, wondering what was so funny, and George decided to try to make a break for it. He silently set down his beer and stood; but he didn't get more than four steps out of the room before he was knocked to the ground.

"Naughty Georgie, trying to keep a secret from his band mates!"

"Dammit, John! Get off me!"

George felt his air supply dwindling as John remained seated on his back.

"Geez, John, let the lad breathe!"

John finally got off of George, and George felt relieved, until John and Paul grabbed him and marched him back into Paul's room. After they had forced him to sit down, all four boys leaned in, staring at George. There was silence for several long minutes, then George finally broke, startling the others.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to start likin' her, it just happened!"

John grinned.

"You still haven't said who you like!"

"Come on, John, I already feel foolish enough!"

John smirked and shook his head.

"If you don't tell them, I'll tell 'em."

George's face had completely drained of color, leaving him looking white as a sheet.

"W-well, um, she, it's…"

He couldn't get the words out. John grinned.

"It's Paulie's little friend from next door!"

George tried to dive under Paul's bed, hoping to avoid getting into a major fight with his best friend, but Paul managed to catch him before he could. Paul looked straight into George's eyes, making him squirm.

"Mate…Is it true?"

George looked down.

"I'm so sorry, Paul, I just…"

He finally looked up, but he wouldn't meet Paul's eyes.

"She's brilliant."

George received quite a shock when he was pulled into a hug by Paul.

"This is perfect!"

Paul released George, who was feeling more than a little bit confused. Judging by the look on Pete's face, George wasn't the only one. John, however, looked strangely eager. Stu finally spoke up.

"Paul…I could have sworn that you said she wouldn't date anybody ever again. Why is George liking her a good thing when she won't date anyone?"

John practically shouted the answer.

"She'll date someone if she wants to! And she knows George well enough to know that he won't cheat on her. Besides, if he hurts her, Paul'll beat him to a pulp."

George couldn't help thinking that this had gotten out of hand.

"Lads, wait! She doesn't like me like that!"

His protests were ignored as his friends began to plan how to convince Opal to date George.

* * *

"I feel sick."

George was standing in the bathroom at their school, where the band was waiting to perform for the school dance. The other boys had decided that George would be singing a song for Opal, and he was feeling more than a little bit nervous. Paul was trying, unsuccessfully, to give him some reassurance.

"Just play and sing like you always do."

The group left the restroom and got up on the stage, ready to perform. After playing through almost all of the songs, George stepped forward for his song. He wasn't certain that he would be able to go through with it; but Opal caught his gaze from her table, and he immediately felt himself relax. His fingers danced over the strings of his guitar, and his voice filled the room; and she never took her eyes off of his. George could not believe it. She usually looked away from him as soon as he looked into her eyes! Her staring back had to mean something; first at the Cavern, and this time. As the group brought the song to a perfect close, George relished the feeling of being trusted by her, the feeling of hope returning to him.

* * *

As the group walked home from the dance, George started to suspect that his fellow band mates were purposefully moving so that he would be walking beside Opal. Opal didn't seem to mind walking beside him, and when she shivered as a breeze blew by them, George quickly shed his jacket and wrapped it around her. The protests she gave were ignored, and she eventually gave in with a shy, "thank you". George walked tall beside her; and he couldn't stop himself from thinking, rather amusedly, that his mother would insist on the girl staying around so that he would sit up straight. After John, Stu, and Pete had gotten to their homes, George finally worked up enough courage to hold out his hand to her. The shy-but-dazzling smile that he received as Opal slid her hand into his? Completely worth the nerves he'd had all night.


	5. Chapter 5

The One About The Girl With The Eyes

Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles, or anything else you may recognize. This fictional story is merely a way for me to get some writing practice and to have a bit of fun. I am not making any money from this story.

Warning: There's going to be some swearing and underage drinking, and possibly some heavy kissing at some point. I'm letting you know now.

Author's Note: Hello! To those of you who have favorited or are following my story, thank you! To any newcomers, welcome! Actually, 'welcome!' to the people who've been here since the beginning as well. And to the person who reviewed, thank you so much! I want to cuddle George too. Anyways, here is chapter 5 of 'The One About The Girl With The Eyes'.

"Come on, lass, you should be out on the dance floor."

"No."

"Leave her be, John. She's never been one for dancing anyways."

I smile gratefully at Paul as John wanders off. Paul fades into the crowd soon after, and George, Stu, and Pete have been missing from our table since we got here. I take a sip of water, then lean back in my chair, trying to work up a daydream to pass the time. I'm just getting caught up in my daydream when George returns from wherever he was.

"Dance with me?"

'_Don't meet his eyes, don't meet his eyes.' _

I look up to see him using puppy eyes on me.

'_Dammit!'_

"Paul taught you that, didn't he."

George simply smirks at me and holds out his hand.

Within about three minutes of reaching the dance floor, I've managed to step on George's feet around twelve times. Before I can make the count thirteen, George stops me.

"Come closer, we're going to stop you from hurting anybody."

I let George pull me towards him, getting more nervous the closer I get. By the time George stops moving me towards him, there is less than half a meter of space between us, and one of my feet is between his.

'_Not good, no good, not good, need Paul…!' _

George doesn't notice that anything is wrong until I step back, breathing shallowly.

"Need…Paul…"

"What? Opal, what's going on!?"

I nearly fall over before George catches me. John emerges from the crowd, and then disappears again. I try to calm myself down, but I can't with George so close to me. Paul's worried face appears, with John right behind him, and he carefully lifts me from George's arms, helping me over to our table. I sit on his lap and cling to the sleeves of his shirt as I try to bring my breathing back to normal.

After a few minutes, my breathing evens out, and I wearily let my head rest against Paul's neck.

"George is worried about you, ya know?"

I don't reply, knowing that he'll be able to figure out why I panicked.

"We really need to find a way to make you more comfortable with the topic of sex."

"I couldn't even dance with him. I tried, I just…He was so close to me, and…"

"I know. You're going to have to tell him what the problem is though."

"He's going to hate me."

"I'm not sure he's capable of hating you, lass. He's got a soft spot for you, and I'm fairly certain that he'll make adjustments just so he can spend time with you."

"Why do you think I don't panic when I'm this close to you?"

"You don't have a crush on me. You used to be able to fall asleep on top of George, so I'm guessing that this crush is somewhat new?"

I nod, and I feel him laugh.

"We'll work something out eventually. I do think that talking to John about this might help, even though he can be a bit…open about this topic at times."

Just then, John made his way over to our table.

"Lass, ya feel better?"

"Much better."

"It took a bit, but I got George to stay with Stu and Pete, just like ya said."

Paul nods.

"Thanks, mate."

John sat in the chair beside ours, looking over at me.

"What happened, Opal? One minute you're stepping on George's toes, next you've nearly fainted."

I tighten my grip on Paul's sleeves, hoping he will talk to John.

"John, she's got…issues."

John raises an eyebrow.

"Issues?"

"How can I put this…? Okay, ya know how her mum left a few years ago?"

John nods.

"She never gave her 'The Talk' before she left, and her dad never bothered with it, so she wound up asking me."

John bursts into laughter, likely imagining a fairly accurate rendition of that particular discussion.

"I gave her as much information as I could, seeing as I'm not a girl, and she found the idea rather…disturbing."

I have to interrupt him at this point.

"Paul, you scarred me for life."

John laughs even harder as Paul continues like he hadn't heard me.

"Now, whenever she gets a crush on somebody, she gets extremely nervous and nearly hyperventilates when she is too close to the person."

John was silent for a moment, working through the new information.

"So, she likes our Georgie. What do you want me to do?"

"Well, I was thinking that you talking to her about it might go a bit better, maybe help her calm down a bit."

"Alright, I'll start tomorrow."

* * *

The awkwardness of my conversation with John knew no boundaries. It started with me giving John a summary of what Paul had told me about sex (which resulted in John laughing so hard that he cried), and ended with Paul shouting, 'Basically, don't do anything and ya won't get pregnant!' at the moment the door to his room opened. Luckily, it was only Mike, and he reassured us (through his laughter) that their father wasn't home. However, no matter how awkward that conversation was, it was about to meet its match the next day.

I had decided to visit Susan in the hope of getting some advice about my problem. I knocked on her door early that morning, knowing that her parents were gone on a trip for the weekend. She finally opened the door, barely clothed.

"Hey, I'm sorry to bother you so early, but I…"

I trail off as I see one of our male classmates behind her, not wearing a shirt. I take a deep breath.

"Never mind, I'll just ask someone else. Bye."

I take off running, straight to Paul's house.

The moment that Paul opened his door, he noticed something was wrong. I was carried up to his room, even though I was perfectly capable of walking, and set on his bed.

"Opal? What happened?"

"Went to see Susan. Male classmate there. No shirt. Her in his shirt. Panicked and ran."

"Easy, you're alright now."

Paul remained standing on the other side of the room, giving me the space that I needed to regain my focus.

"I went to talk to her about my problem. I didn't know that anyone else was there."

I stare at Paul's guitar, focusing on it instead of the memories of that morning. Paul, noticing my staring, grabbed his guitar and sat beside me; he plucked a few strings and smiled when I began to relax. As he started to play a familiar song, he looked over at me.

"If you still relax this much when I play, I can't imagine how you would react to George's playing."

"You've improved a lot."

"Have I really?"

I can hear the sarcasm in Paul's voice, and I can't help grinning.

"Nah, you've gotten worse."

Ignoring his protests, I lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Paul, do you think that George would be willing to help me with my problem?"

The music stops, and Paul's face comes into view.

"How do you mean?"

"A controlled situation? Like, the three of us in here, and we see how close he can get without me panicking? Maybe I can hear him play?"

Paul grins.

"I'll be right back."

Ten minutes later, Paul returns. I don't bother sitting up, but then I hear a familiar voice that isn't Paul's.

"Hey, Opal."

I sit up and smile at George, who has his guitar with him. Paul gives him a (heavily edited) run-down of what the problem is, and George agrees to help. George begins to strum his guitar, and Paul stays by the door as George starts to walk towards me. Paul's playing is brilliant, but something about George's playing would have had me melting, if I hadn't been so nervous to begin with. As it was, George got about halfway to me before my breathing changed. Paul noticed right away.

"George."

George froze where he was, and Paul came to sit beside me.

"Ya alright?"

I lean against Paul for a moment, and close my eyes when George begins to play again. I feel like he's tugging on my heartstrings as he plays; and something inside of me stirs as he continues, as he unknowingly coaxes feelings that I've never really felt before to the surface. Paul, while observant, is kind enough not to mention how tense I become.

* * *

"Paul?"

"Yeah?"

I scoot closer to him.

"D'you think George would ever consider dating me?"

Paul chuckles, wrapping his arms around me.

"Ya know, I think he might."

I feel a genuine smile spread across my face.

"Opal, why did you get tense so suddenly?"

"Do you remember, when we were younger, you used to play your guitar mainly when I was the only one around?"

"Yeah, like maybe two years ago?"

I frown with him, realizing that it really hadn't been all that long ago. Just after his mum had died, just before mine left.

"Do you remember what I said about it?"

Paul frowns more, apparently trying to remember.

"You said…that if you ever met a guy who could make you feel like his music was pulling at your heartstrings, you would probably want to go out with him."

"His playing today…did that."

I shift so I can look Paul in the eyes.

"I got tense because I'd already started liking him, but his playing got to me, ya know?"

"What else about him gets to you?"

This conversation seemed like it should be uncomfortable, but it really wasn't.

"His eyes. He keeps staring at me, and I feel like he can see all of my thoughts and feelings when he does."

I get a kiss on my forehead.

"Have you ever gotten that feeling from somebody else?"

I shake my head.

"Either of them?"

"No. Only from him."


	6. Chapter 6

The One About The Girl With The Eyes

Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles, or anything else you may recognize. This fictional story is merely a way for me to get some writing practice and to have a bit of fun. I am not making any money from this story.

Warning: There's going to be some violence, sexual harassment (for lack of a better term), swearing and underage drinking, and possibly some heavy kissing at some point. I'm letting you know now.

"I can't walk you home today."

"Why?"

Paul wraps an arm around me.

"John wants me to go to his house right after I get out of school. Something about a new song he's come up with."

I nod, trying not to let Paul see how nervous I am about having to walk home alone.

"Hey, Paul!"

We both turn as George comes hurrying over.

George had been helping with my problem a lot. He'd been very patient about it; and as time passed, I grew to trust him more. I could now be fairly close to him without panicking, and Paul, George, John, and I had been thrilled when that point was reached.

"Hey."

George grins when he sees me beside Paul.

"Hello, Opal."

"Hi, George."

The three of us continue walking, all on our way to school.

"What were you talking about? It looked pretty serious."

Paul sighed.

"I can't walk Opal home after school because John wants to work on some songs at his place. Opal's nervous about walking alone."

As I splutter out a (rather unbelievable) protest, George offers a solution.

"What if I walk ya?"

"You don't have to, I'll be fine."

"What if I told ya I wanted to?"

I stop as we reach the road that runs between my school and theirs.

"You what?"

Paul turns to look back at me. George, who had been walking beside Paul even after I had stopped, stepped towards me.

"I want to walk you home after school. Please?"

I look over at Paul, who winks at me. Looking back to George, I nod.

"Thanks, George."

I hug Paul, then wave goodbye to the boys as I walk across the road to my school; and I can't help wondering what will happen after school.

* * *

I pull my jacket around me as I walk up to George's school, feeling rather irritated with Susan. I had come to school in clothes that were somewhat modest, but she had pulled me into the bathroom before class and shoved some clothes into my arms. The too short skirt and low-cut blouse had me fidgeting throughout the day, mainly in an attempt to stop myself from satisfying the very strong desire to yell at Susan. Now that school was out and I was approaching George's school, I found myself wishing that I'd yelled at Susan and gotten my previous outfit back. Without Paul here, his classmates would likely pester me until George showed up, and I wasn't looking forward to the experience.

Doing my best to ignore the wolf whistles and blatant staring, I stopped outside the front doors of the school. As a few guys (including my ex) begin to make their way over to me, George emerges from the school. I have to stop myself from greeting him too happily, and he can see just how jumpy I am.

"Hey, lass."

He reaches me just as the other boys do, and he winks at me when the other boys aren't looking.

"Paul wanted me to walk ya over to his house."

I'm feeling rather nervous about the guys that are staring at me, so I decide to play along.

"Alright."

As I step forward to follow George, my ex grabs my arm.

"You don't need to settle for Paul, you can have better."

"Paul's the one I want."

I try to walk away, but he doesn't let go of my arm.

"Come on, let a real man show you what life's about."

I don't see George anywhere, and I'm getting really worried.

"Let go."

Instead of doing so, he pinches my bum.

"George!"

Much to my surprise, George isn't the only one who comes to my rescue. My ex-boyfriend lets go of me when John, George, and Paul collide with him. His friends move forward to help him, but the groups are evenly matched in number. That fact, combined with a furious George, an enraged John, and an even angrier Paul, ends the fight rather quickly. As two of the boys flee, John and Paul hoist my (rather bloody) ex-boyfriend to his knees before me.

"Apologize," John snarls, looking rather menacing.

When my ex doesn't respond, Paul grabs his hair and pulls, hard.

"Apologize!"

"Guys, let him go, it isn't worth it."

They hold on to him, and I feel rather scared of seeing my friends acting like this.

"Please, let go, he's learned his lesson."

A mangled sob breaks free before I can stop it, and I see Paul's eyes soften.

"Let him go," I whisper, and they release my ex.

I'm pulled into a hug by George as my ex-boyfriend runs away, but Paul practically tears me from his grasp. As I'm pulled into Paul's arms, I notice how close to crying he is.

"Paul, shh, it's alright…"

"He HURT you! It wasn't enough for him to break your heart, oh no, he decides that he has to try forcing you anyways!"

'_Okay, so he's gone all protective over me. Best to tread carefully.'_

"He didn't hurt me this time. You stopped him before he could. All he managed to do was rattle my nerves a bit, he didn't manage to force me, it's over…"

Paul grabs my hand and pulls me behind him, all the way to John's place. George and John follow close behind; and John lets us in when we reach his place, stepping aside so Paul doesn't run him over. Paul and I wind up seated on the floor; at which point Paul buries his face in my shoulder as he breaks down, and I can feel his tears running down my skin.

* * *

Paul eventually sits up, wiping his eyes.

"What happened to the clothes you were wearing this morning?"

"Remind me to yell at Susan."

"What did she do this time?"

"Trapped me in the bathroom until I changed into this," I gesture to the outfit that I'm wearing, unzipping my jacket because I'm too warm.

"Then, because she knows me fairly well, she took off with the clothes I wore to school."

Paul leans his head on my shoulder with a sigh.

"Did you tell her that you were going to walk over to our school?"

"That would be when she grabbed my other clothes and took off."

Paul groaned. John looked confused.

"Wait, she knew that you were going over there, and still made you wear that?"

"I don't want to go into why, but yes."

"Why would she make you wear that to begin with? You look very nice and all, but you look pretty in what you normally wear."

I feel my face turning red at George's comment, and I have to stop myself from fleeing when he looks into my eyes.

"She thinks that giving me a makeover will help me get a new boyfriend."

"Do you want a new boyfriend?"

I try not to move as George crawls towards me, but Paul scoots away. George's gaze still hasn't left mine.

"I…I'm not sure…"

"Then why go along with her plan?"

"She…Susan said that if I get a new boyfriend…I'll get over the last one faster. I told her that…"

I stop, focusing just enough to realize that I'd nearly told him that I liked him.

"That…I was going to your school so I could walk home with you; she decided that I needed to change into this."

"Why?"

'_Quick, think of a reason!'_

"To…Well…So I could get the attention of your classmates, make them come to me, ya know? She forgot that my ex would be there, I guess."

George sits back, and I try to breathe.

"Come on, lass, I'll walk you home so those two can get to work."

* * *

The walk to my house is filled with small talk; and I relax as the warm sun, so rarely felt, caresses my skin. My house is empty when we arrive, and I can assume that my dad won't be home until late tonight.

"Would you like to come in?"

George gives me a warm smile that sends my heart reeling.

"Sure."

I bustle around the kitchen, making tea for George and me.

"D'you want a sandwich?"

"Yes, please."

I swiftly make two sandwiches and put them on the table.

"Have a seat, the tea is almost ready."

George sits down just as the tea reaches the right temperature. I pour a cup for each of us, and then take a seat across from George. We eat our sandwiches in silence, sipping tea in between bites.

"You know, as many times as I've been here, I've never seen the entire house."

I grab our dishes and put them in the sink.

"Would you like a tour then?"

"Sure."

I lead George around my house, and decide to be a bit goofy about it.

"And this is the best of the best, the place you've yet to see…"

I stop when I notice George staring at a closed door near my bedroom.

"Opal?"

'_Shit.'_

"My mum left shortly after Paul's died. That was her sewing room. Dad and I haven't worked up the nerve to go in there since about a month after that."

I rattle off the answer, knowing that I'd never be able to give him an answer otherwise.

"I'm so sorry, Opal. I didn't mean to intrude, I just…"

I shake my head, trying to hold back my tears.

"Just…give me a sec."

I blink rapidly, and finally manage to rein in the urge to cry.

"Anyways, this is the best of the best, the room you've yet to see…"

I throw open the door to my room.

"My bedroom! Fully equipped with bed, wardrobe, nightstand, and desk; and as an added treat," I wrinkle my nose as I take in the state of my sheets that I hadn't gotten to change yet, "the bed comes with Paul's drool still on the sheets."

George smirks at me as he takes a look around the room, pretending that he's never been here before.

"Best room of the house. Paul's slobber on the pillow and bed sheets adds a nice touch."

His eyes meet mine, and his lips twitch slightly, before we both burst into laughter.

* * *

*Tap tap tap tap tap.*I hurry over to the front door. George had left an hour ago, after staying to talk with me for a couple of hours.

"Who is it?"

"Paul."

I open the door and tackle Paul; who, thankfully, did not have his guitar with him. We head up to my room, glad that we'll be able to talk here at a normal volume for once.

"So, how did it go?"

The seemingly indifferent tone caught my attention immediately.

"You tried to set us up!"

"Who, me? Whoever did I try setting you up with?"

I narrow my eyes as I glare at him.

"You tried to set me up with George. Now, he knows about mum leaving."

Paul's jaw drops at my announcement.

"Opal, I'm sorry, I didn't think that he would ask."

"He didn't; at least, he wasn't asking about her specifically. He saw the door to her sewing room when I gave him a tour of the house. I actually wanted to talk to you about that."

Paul, who had just sprawled out on my bed, sat back up.

"What is it?"

"I…Keep in mind that I have to discuss this with my father first, but I was wondering if you would help me clean out that room. You don't have to, I just would appreciate the help since, you know."

_Paul did know, better than anybody. His mother's death had sent him to my house with his guitar, and we would sit in my mum's sewing room for hours, just as a way to escape. When my mum left, less than a year later, I was attached to Paul even more than before; afraid that he would leave me too. I refused to tell him that I was scared, choosing instead to spill my secrets to mum's sewing room, trusting that they would be kept safe in the yards of fabric and spools of thread. Paul, thankfully, kept visiting; and he would play his guitar in that room while I stitched pieces of fabric into new clothes. The room had been full of secrets by the time we had stopped entering it, and most of the secrets were ones of pain, sorrow, and fear. The thought of entering that room was one that I did not enjoy, mainly because I knew that the secrets would feel even more potent to us after we had picked up the pieces of our lives and continued on._

Paul looks deep into my eyes, his brown piercing my gray.

"How much cleaning were you thinking?"

"Mainly reorganizing. Putting fabrics and spools of thread back in their proper places, dusting, sweeping."

Paul wraps his arms around me and pulls me towards him. I go willingly into his embrace, both of us giving and receiving comfort from the hug.

"I won't put you through this alone, lass. You won't have to do this alone."

* * *

March 24th. Paul and I had begun cleaning my mum's sewing room the week before, though Paul never said asked why I had chosen right then to start. We were in the middle of cleaning the room after school, where I had been wished a 'happy birthday' multiple times. Paul, on the other hand, knew better than to even approach the subject. There came a frantic knocking on the door, and Paul left to answer it, knowing that I would have a difficult time dealing with anybody being there today. I continue to clean, and I know exactly which area I'm tackling next. Mum's spools of thread.

She had never learned to keep the threads untangled for when she needed them. This, combined with the amount of time they had sat untouched, made the spools of thread a project for very nimble fingers. I sat down to get started on them, not remembering until it was too late the last time I had done so.

_I was seated on the floor, with Paul seated across the room from me. I put down the latest project that I had been working on, a skirt, and grabbed the knotted threads, thinking that I would be able to unknot them and move on with my project. _

_I couldn't. _

_I was still working a couple of hours later when Paul finally spoke. _

"_Lass, you can't keep doing this." _

"_I just have to untangle this knot; you can go if you want." _

"_That's not what I meant." _

_I finally turn to look at him, and he crawls over to me. He firmly gripped my shoulders, making sure that I was focused on him, and then said something that really affected both of us. _

"_She's not coming back." _

_I shake my head, trying to brush off his words, but he shakes me a little and says it again. _

"_She's not coming back." _

_I bite my lip to stop a strangled sob from emerging. _

"_She's NOT coming back!"_

_I broke down, and as Paul set his guitar to one side, I could see the words reaching him too. We both cried that day, and we had decided against going into that room after that._

As the memories flooded my mind, I curled up into a ball, letting go of the tangled threads. I heard footsteps and shouting on the stairs, and barely had time to look up at the door in confusion before it was thrown open.

"I'm going to wish her a happy birthday since I can't get here later!"

George stood in the doorway, hollering back at Paul. When he turned to look at me, his smile faded.

"Opal, what's happened?"

Paul shoves past him as I shake my head. Paul sits beside me and holds his arms out, so I curl into his side; trying to gain a little comfort.

"Yes, it's her birthday. No, it isn't a very happy day for her."

George approaches slowly, coming to a stop just in front of us.

"Why isn't it happy?"

He sinks to the floor, keeping his eyes on me.

"Her mum, left. Two years ago. On Opal's birthday."

I bury my face in the crook of Paul's shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne. Paul takes a deep breath, and I can feel the tension that spreads through him.

"Her mum left less than a year after mine died. I haven't let her spend her birthday alone since."

I feel a hand on my shoulder, so I look up into George's eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Opal."

"'S'not your fault. Mum turned out to be a bitch, that's all."

Paul's grip on me tightened; he wasn't fooled by my words.

"Fine, she wasn't. Mum…was wonderful. I used to spend all of my time in here, just watching her sew, or sewing new clothes myself. Then, I got home from school, with Paul right beside me, and my dad told me that she had gone. Vanished."

I'm close to crying, but I have to get this next part out, if only so Paul knows what she had started doing.

"Until this year."

"What?!"

Paul looks stunned, so I continue.

"She started sending letters on major holidays. One last Christmas, then on New Year's, St. Patrick's Day, now this…"

I pull a letter out of my pocket.

"Today. 'Happy Birthday, Opal. You're still my gem, sweetie. All my love, mum.' Like I need her to wish me a bloody Happy Birthday; HER of all people!"

Paul's grip on me became even tighter, letting me know that he was angry.

"Paul. Ow."

He starts, and then loosens his grip.

"Sorry, lass. I just can't believe that she did that to you."

George is silent, watching us discuss my mum.

"What do you think of this?"

Paul snaps at George, who looks a bit surprised.

"Paul, leave him. He didn't know her, lucky guy."

Paul mumbles an apology.

"Opal, why are you cleaning this room today, of all days?"

I look into George's eyes, finding concern and encouragement.

"I wanted to show her that she didn't manage it. She didn't manage to stay here when she left. If dad and I weren't important enough to her that she would stay, then she's got no right to keep affecting us now."

With these words, I scoot away from Paul and grab the tangled threads. Strand by strand, I pick at the knot while George and Paul watch. It's the last thing to fix in here anyways.

After an hour, I haven't made much progress.

"Lass, let it go."

Paul tries to convince me to let go of the knotted threads, but I refuse.

"At least give me a hug? I've gotta get home for supper."

I give Paul a hug, smiling when he kisses my cheek messily.

"Thank you."

"No problem, Opal."

He waves goodbye to George, then disappears. I return to fiddling with the knot, but don't make any progress.

"I guess I know why mum never bothered to untangle these."

I move to set the mess down, but George stops me.

"Easy does it, luv. Don't give up on it entirely."

His hands wrap around mine, guiding my fingers through several steps. Soon, a few strands are freed, so we wind them properly on their spools and put them away.

"Well, I'd best be off."

George leans down and presses his lips to my forehead, just barely noticeable.

"Bye, George."

He stares at me for a moment. Then, I squeak in surprise as I'm pulled off the floor into a hug. He chuckles, then finally releases me.

"Don't let her wreck your birthday. Try to have a good one, alright?"

He leaves before I can respond, and I'm left in mum's old sewing room, pondering how to go about having a really good birthday. I hear the front door swing open, and my face lights up.

"Dad! Can we do something for my birthday!?"


	7. Chapter 7

The One About The Girl With The Eyes

Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles, or anything else you may recognize. This fictional story is merely a way for me to get some writing practice and to have a bit of fun. I am not making any money from this story.

Warning: There's going to be some violence, sexual harassment (for lack of a better term), swearing and underage drinking, and possibly some heavy kissing at some point. I'm letting you know now.

* * *

My father was one of the two people that I truly trusted after mum left; the other being Paul. Dad was surprisingly lenient after mum left, allowing me to spend as much time as I wanted with Paul until it was time for bed. He practically encouraged me to stay near Paul, somehow understanding how much comfort I was receiving from Paul, as well as how much comfort I was giving to my closest friend.

Dad gave me a rather strange look when I came downstairs shouting about my birthday. It had been a few years since I had wanted to celebrate a day that had wreaked havoc on my life, even though he had tried to get me to celebrate by at least inviting Paul over for dinner and cake. Though Dad was gone during the day for work, he always did his best to get home on time for my birthday; he frequently worked late on other days.

"What do you want to do?"

I thought for a moment, wondering what we could do since mum had left.

"Can we try baking a cake?"

Baking had been something that mum usually did since dad was always busy with work. Dad studied me for a minute before nodding.

"Let's bake a cake then."

* * *

So…my dad and I shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen together. Ever.

We started out alright. I pulled out the ingredients that I could remember mum using, and Dad found a cookbook. The trouble didn't actually start until Dad was supposed to put the eggs in the mixing bowl, and decided to crack one and dump it on my head. Things dissolved into chaos after that. I retaliated to the egg in my hair by throwing a handful of flour at him; he managed to knock the butter off of the counter in his flailing. The entire thing finally ended when we both managed to slip and fall; him on the butter and me in a puddle of water. I pulled a couple of pans down with me, causing a rather large crash that was heard from next door. As Dad and I lay there laughing, Paul came scurrying in with his brother and father right behind him.

"What on Earth happened?!"

Paul's shocked voice sent me into a renewed fit of giggles. My dad had stopped laughing and was just lying on the floor beside me.

"We were having a bit of fun. Sorry to alarm you."

Paul's father smiled.

"Boys, help Opal up."

He stepped forward and pulled my father to his feet as Mike and Paul each grabbed one of my hands and pulled me up.

"You're…actually happy?"

Paul whispers to me as soon as his brother turns away.

"After what all has happened today, yeah."

Paul looks directly into my eyes, likely searching for some sign of deception. He finally sighs, a small smile on his face.

"Alright then."

Paul, Mike, and their father leave; and Dad and I start to clean up the mess we've made. My dad looks over at me as we scrub the floor.

"Good?"

I smile back, feeling happier than I can remember ever feeling on my birthday.

"Great."

* * *

Paul showed up in my room that night, cautiously climbing through my window. His caution was reasonable, especially since he had almost been shoved out the window on this date for the past two years. The only reason he hadn't been completely shoved out the window was because he happened to be taller and stronger than me, making him rather immovable.

I smiled at Paul, holding my arms out to him.

"Hi, Paul!"

He chuckled, recognizing my tone of voice and actions from when we were young children.

"Hi, Opal."

He paused, considering.

"How…how was today?"

I continue to smile.

"Good. Dad and I never managed to bake a cake though."

Paul shook his head with a smirk, taking a seat beside me on the bed.

"What happened after I left?"

I am only slightly thankful for the dim lighting that hides my blush.

"It was…interesting."

Paul wraps one arm around my shoulders.

"How's that?"

"I was working on the threads, but was about to give up on them when George helped me through a couple of knots. He kissed my forehead, then picked me up off the floor and hugged me. The last thing he told me was to not let mum wreck my birthday, and to try to have a good one."

Paul laughs.

"Well, that isn't quite what I meant, but now that George is smitten, what's your plan?"

I nearly fall off of my bed, only staying on due to Paul's quick actions.

"What are you talking about?"

Paul raises an eyebrow at me.

"Lass, he came over to see you on your birthday. Unless something happened that you haven't told me about, he is the only one besides me who did. He loves you! He stares at you when we hang out; for goodness's sake, John keeps having to say your name during practice to get his attention after you leave for the day!"

I sit silently, thinking through everything that Paul is telling me. Could George actually like me? If so, is it possible that he may even…love me?

"Paul, you're my best friend, but I'm fairly certain that you don't have any idea what you're talking about this time."

My voice is shaky as I attempt to explain to my best friend that George was too good for me, that he would never consider dating me. I stand, pacing the floor of my room as I try to sort out my thoughts, hoping that I can argue the point in such a way that Paul leaves the issue alone.

"I…Paul, I'm…I'm not the smartest girl in my class. I'm not the most outgoing, and I'm certainly not the prettiest. I am the quietest girl. I get average grades, my closest girl friend can turn heads just by existing, and I am not the right girl for George!"

Paul stares at me for a minute, then clears his throat.

"Opal, don't you think that that might be something for George to decide?"

When I don't reply, he continues.

"You aren't outgoing around people that you don't know. I've seen you dance during band practice, you can't convince me that you aren't somewhat outgoing under the right conditions. Earlier today, I walked in on the aftermath of a food fight. As for not being the smartest girl in your class, how could you be? You hang out with me half the day, and then talk to me most of the night! You do your homework and study when you have exams and the like, and you have an imagination that would likely shock everyone besides me. You get good grades, I have seen your report cards before, and you get higher marks than a lot of people."

My eyes are starting to fill with tears as my best friend spouts compliments about me. Paul stands and approaches me, stopping in front of me.

"As for Susan turning heads, George has met her before. He didn't look all that impressed either."

"When did he meet her?"

Paul smiled.

"Today, right after school. He was waiting to wish you a happy birthday, but you had already gone by the time our classes let out. Susan was talking to some guys, so we asked her where you had gone. She was wearing this really short skirt and a tight blouse, but George just kept looking around, trying to find you."

The corners of my mouth twitch up slightly. Paul pulls me into a hug, a soothing presence as I try to work out just how people really see me. His warm breath tickles my ear as he takes on the last of my arguments from before.

"You are a natural beauty. Your looks are the kind that could only come from the amount of kindness that you have inside of you. You weren't made for short skirts and tight blouses, you were made for any type of clothing that you feel comfortable in."

Paul steps back, looking directly into my eyes as he grasps my hands.

"When you feel comfortable, truly comfortable, around somebody…You are radiant. Your eyes are so intense, and your smile lights up the room. Your laughter has an almost musical quality to it, and your hair…Do you remember last summer? When we went out for an ice cream cone?"

I nod, feeling rather confused by the sudden change in topic.

"You took off running ahead of me, claiming that if we didn't hurry, it would all be gone by the time we got there. The sun was really bright that day, and you were wearing your hair down. You hadn't gotten it cut since the previous summer, before all of the bad stuff happened, and the sun caught it just right while you were running."

I remain silent, trying to figure out where Paul was going with all of this. He releases one of my hands to play with a lock of my hair.

"You have red streaks in your hair, did you know that?"

I shake my head, thinking that it would make sense since my father does too.

"You aren't a red head, but you have a little bit of red hidden in your mostly brown locks. It looks incredible in the sunlight, and if George ever sees it, he'll likely be rendered speechless. So don't go telling me that you aren't pretty, because I happen to know better."

Paul sticks his tongue out at me after he finishes talking, causing me to laugh. We go to sleep on my bed, his arms wrapped protectively around me. He hasn't forgotten the significance of the day either.


	8. Chapter 8

The One About The Girl With The Eyes

Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles, or anything else you may recognize. This fictional story is merely a way for me to get some writing practice and to have a bit of fun. I am not making any money from this story.

Warning: There's going to be some violence, sexual harassment (for lack of a better term), swearing and underage drinking, and possibly some heavy kissing at some point. I'm letting you know now.

* * *

I am…bored.

John, Paul, George, Stuart, and Pete are practicing at Pete's place, and I have nothing to do. I finished my homework ages ago, and the band members are currently arguing about something that I am not entirely sure I understand. I have been sitting silently for the past hour, wondering just when we will be leaving. John turned into a rather menacing figure a while back, shouting whenever somebody makes a mistake, and I'm getting rather tired of it. Of course, that is also the reason that I haven't said a word since we got here. Pete's family is gone, so what happens next only startles the people in the same room.

*Boom* *Boom* *Boom* *CRASH*

I jump as Pete's cymbal crashes to the floor, missing colliding with my head by less than the length of my hand. As Pete leaps to his feet to grab the cymbal, I carefully push it upright. John, who apparently forgot I was here, turns on me with a snarl.

"What the fuck is she still doing here?!"

As Paul starts to stammer out an explanation, John grabs my hair and pulls me to my feet.

"Spying for another group, eh? Which one is it?!"

I don't say a word, and wince a moment later when he yanks on my hair.

"Which group is it?!"

"Your theory is all fine and nice, except ya forgot something."

His face is suddenly all I can see.

"Well? What is it I've supposedly forgotten?!"

I meet his gaze, resisting the urge to shudder at the anger I see there.

"I don't know anything about music, John. I've been sitting here waiting to go home for the past hour, and I'm fairly certain that a spy would want to learn as much as possible whenever they could, otherwise they would be a fair bit useless."

Paul has been staring at John and me during all of this, hopefully trying to find a way to calm John. I close my eyes, trying to find enough calmness in myself to make John at least let go of my hair for a moment; then Paul does something rather stupid.

As Paul attempts to tackle John, John turns against Paul. I feel John let go of me, and I open my eyes, feeling rather horrified as John attempts to punch Paul. I ignore the other boys, all of whom are trying to figure out how to get John away from Paul without injury, and jump on John's back.

The expression of shock and fear that flashes across Paul's face when he sees me clinging to John's back was one that belongs in a cartoon. My plan, however, works; John is no longer trying to hurt the other boys. Instead, he is attempting to get free of me.

"Let go, you little bitch!"

As John spins in circles, I close my eyes in the hope of warding off dizziness.

"John, you know me. You know that I'm not capable of harming you physically, and you know that I've been through some tough emotional stuff too."

John stops spinning, dropping to his knees from how dizzy he has become.

"Come on, John. Relax. Breathe."

I change the position of my arms from clutching to hugging, trying to calm him a bit.

"I know that you want things to come right. I know that you've been working hard on this song for the past week and it still hasn't come right. I also know that you've gone and exhausted yourself trying to figure out what is wrong. Take a break. Come back to this one after you've had time to rest. There's a chance that it'll come together on its own."

I glance up and see the other boys staring.

"Maybe you just need to have somebody listen to the original when you do, somebody who isn't as familiar with the original. Do you want me to come over tomorrow and listen to it with you? I'm sure Paul's got the record somewhere."

No response. Then, almost as if he's terrified that I'll refuse, "Please?"

I smile, nudging his shoulder with my head.

"Sure. Besides, I'd like to hear it without having to worry about getting hit by flying equipment."

I stick my tongue out at Pete, who looks rather embarrassed.

"Sorry, Opal."

I wave his apology off, letting go of John and getting to my feet.

"Can we go home now? Please? I want to actually get some sleep tonight, and I don't think you lot want to hear me snoring over your music."

Stuart and Pete laugh, but George, John, and Paul laugh before exchanging smirks. All three know that I actually do snore sometimes. Loudly.

* * *

I awake the next morning because somebody tackles me. Said somebody very nearly got kicked in the gut before I saw Paul in the doorway. I relax, taking in the figure that is currently sprawled on top of me.

John.

I roll my eyes as I nudge him, trying to get him off of me.

"John, I can't exactly go anywhere with you on top of me."

He rolls to one side, and I sit up, holding my arms out to him. He hugs me before attempting to drag me out of my bed. Paul decides that now would be a good time to come to my rescue.

"John, let her go, she can get out of bed on her own."

John lets go of me, deciding to jump on my bed instead. I manage to stand, burying my face in Paul's neck when I reach him.

"It's so early…"

He laughs, wrapping his arms around me.

"He woke me up at the crack of dawn, lass. I'm running on a cup of coffee."

"Sorry."

My voice comes out muffled, but I really don't care at this point. Paul rubs my back, knowing just how out of it I am in the morning.

"Come on, lass, let's get ya some coffee."

* * *

Paul's knowledge of my house pays off frequently. This time, it results in me getting coffee without having to figure out where anything is. Paul and I soon have mugs in front of us, and John has a glass of water in front of him. He wasn't thrilled about it; but when he argued, I threatened to not help out today. That shut him up rather quickly. We finish our drinks quickly before heading over to Paul's house, me clinging to Paul's arm in case I fall asleep standing up. Mike is sitting at the table when we walk in, and he looks amused by my sleepy state.

"Woke you up early too?"

I nod, tightening my grip on Paul's arm as I sway on my feet. Paul patiently holds me upright, no doubt remembering that it takes a lot of caffeine or sleep to make me functional. With only a tiny bit of caffeine and very little sleep, I'm lucky not to have fallen down yet. Paul hauls me into the sitting room, placing me on a couch before going over to the record player. The song from last night's band practice begins, and I wearily listen to it, trying to figure out what the group had been doing wrong.

"You keep missing a note during the chorus, even when Pete plays the drum beat."

I yawn as we wait for the part I was talking about to come around again.

"Right…there."

Paul and John grab their guitars from the floor and play the song through with the missing note, apparently pleased by the result. I begin to sink into the couch, and my eyes drift shut. The last thing I remember before sleep takes me is being carried up to Paul's room by Paul himself.

* * *

When I wake up, I realize that Paul and John are chatting quietly on the floor. I then realize that I am still in my pajamas, even though I'm at Paul's house.

"Paul?"

The conversation stops, both boys turning to look at me. Paul gives me a smile.

"How ya feeling, lass?"

"Much better. Thanks for bringing me up here."

I yawn, stretch, and then roll off of Paul's bed. I land beside Paul, who wraps an arm around me as their conversation resumes. I ignore a large part of their conversation, deciding to look out the window instead. At some point I realize that John and Paul have stopped talking. When I turn to look at them, John is gaping at me.

"What the bloody hell is so interesting out there?"

Paul smiles down at me when I lay my head in his lap, still facing the window.

"She probably saw the bird's nest on that tree."

"A bird's nest? That's what has her so preoccupied, a bloody bird's nest?!"

Paul shrugs.

"She's either watching the birds, or she's watching clouds. She'll stop eventually."

Paul's fingers begin to card through my hair as I watch the birds flitting about above their nest.

"Why does she do it anyways?"

"It calms her. Watching nature relaxes her more than alcohol ever could, and birds tend to get a lot of her attention, as do clouds."

I hold up a hand to get Paul to be quiet as a squirrel begins to irritate the owners of the nest that I am watching. We hear the chattering, along with the irritated chirping, and I see the squirrel get run off by one of the birds. I shake my head, smiling about the antics that I had seen. I ignore John's whisper of "She's bloody weird," choosing to close my eyes and listen to the sounds of nature, even the comforting whoosh of air as Paul breathes in and exhales.


End file.
